


(Involuntary) Partners In Crime

by ready_to_kick_some_ass



Series: FitzSimmons AUs [5]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, First Meetings, Kidnapping, Pre-Relationship, Robbery, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-09 00:28:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17396657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ready_to_kick_some_ass/pseuds/ready_to_kick_some_ass
Summary: „I need your car.“Jemma Simmons stares at the gun that’s pointed at her face.Her stomach drops as her mind tries to make sense of this situation – and fails.*Jemma is on her way to her favourite course at college and ends up being kidnapped instead, by a man who robbed a petrol station but seems strangely uncertain about what he's doing.





	(Involuntary) Partners In Crime

„I need your car.“

Jemma Simmons stares at the gun that’s pointed at her face. Her stomach drops as her mind tries to make sense of this situation – and fails.  

It’s a sunny Monday in spring and she was just about to drive to college, after buying a cup of coffee to go and a box of fruit salad for lunch, like always.

When she got ready to start the car however, someone knocked at her window urgingly. Jemma opened her window and turned her attention away from the coffee that was still too hot to drink but threatened to drip on her freshly washed jeans, ready to smile as politely as possible at whoever probably wanted directions from her – and that was when she saw the gun. A gun. A very real gun.

_Oh God._

She’s still staring into the dark barrel now, while time goes on around her like nothing has happened.

“I need your car,” the man holding the gun repeats. He’s breathing heavily. His face is flushed and sweaty. “Now.”

“I’ll be late for my chemistry course,” Jemma says absently. It's the only thing that comes to her mind. The next moment she realizes with a feeling of absurd cheerfulness that being late for a course doesn’t matter at all when you’re being threatened by a man with a gun.

For a moment, she considers fleeing.

But she can’t move. She can’t move a single part of her body.

The man makes an impatient noise and turns his head to look over his shoulder. Then he quickly circles the car, opens the door and slips on the passenger’s seat. The gun he immediately points back at Jemma shakes in his hand. A lot.

“Start the car,” he says. When she follows his – or rather the gun’s – movements with her eyes, she gets a glimpse of ruffled curls, a stubbly face and wide open blue eyes. He’s young. Maybe her age.  

“Now!” He barks, and Jemma startles, hissing when some drops of hot coffee land on her bare hand. She puts the cup into the holder slowly to not startle the maniac sitting beside her, and puts both hands on the steering wheel, grabbing it so firmly that it hurts.

“Where to?” She asks. Her throat is dry. Feels like it’s filled with hot raspy sand.

“Onto the main road. I’m going to give you directions from there.”

She nods and starts the car. From the inside she’s screaming for someone to notice her situation, but the alley she has parked in is always quite lonely and now is no difference. The world doesn't care for her misery apparently.

She side-eyes her kidnapper nervously.

His posture is slumped. She sees, that he’s wearing a jacket that’s too big and has a lot of holes. He also wears pants that are dirty and boots that have no shoelaces. Another glance into his face convinces her that yes indeed, he’s young and his blue eyes, that nervously switch from side to side, could have been warm, if there wasn’t that forced hard determination in them. There’s a heavy bag laying on his lap, probably filled with stolen money, she guesses. Oh God. Maybe he has robbed a bank ... Images of horrible car chases with the police start to fill her mind.

The fact is, there’s actually nothing really threatening about the young man sitting beside her. Nothing but the gun in his hand and Jemma’s eyeing it nervously from time to time. She’s never seen one so up close before. She has never _wanted_ to see one.

Jemma startles every time the man’s voice directs her. She realizes he’s leading her away from the centre of town and into the middle of nowhere. The anxiety rises higher and higher. It makes her throat clench until she almost feels like she can’t breathe. Sometimes, she asks herself if she just should cause an accident. She tries to find out how to do it without getting killed in the process. But in the end she just drives on. And on.

Until they are somewhere on the countryside, driving along empty fields and a sparkling river.

“Stop here,” her kidnapper says quietly.

She obeys and pulls the car over. When the engine stops roaring, it’s completely silent. The scenery around them is cold and scary, altough the sky is still blue. Dry, yellow grass and high fir trees, throwing huge shadows. From time to time, a crow calls out.

Jemma asks herself with a sudden strange distance feeling inside her chest if she’s going to die here. It seems like a good place to get rid of someone. It reminds her of too many Criminal Mind episodes she binge watched with a friend for some reason.

She’s not ready to die. It’s funny, that you never really think about your own death. Not in detail. It’s always like today won’t be the day. No. Jemma's definitely not ready. She’s studying biochemistry. And she's one of the best, if not the best. She’s following her dreams. She has a lot of plans for the future. None of them includes driving a criminal through the nature and ending up buried in a corn field.

Once again she’s asking herself if she has any chance to escape. When she opens the door now, quickly … but she doesn’t know where she is. He maybe does. And he probably would catch her in a matter of seconds.

But well … she knows some basic self-defence, since her parents insisted on her having a few lessons. She has a very good memory. She’s not going to die without a fight … Certainly not. Jemma tries to look around in the car as unsuspiciously as possible. There has to be something laying around she can use to hit him hard enough to knock him out ...

Her kidnapper seems distracted. He’s staring out of the windshield, a deep line on his forehead.

“Are you going to kill me?” Jemma asks, trying to sound brave, but her voice starts to tremble mid sentence.

The man startles and turns his head to look at her. His blue eyes widen and he gulps. “What … Oh God. Of course not. No.”

Jemma exhales shakily. “Oh. Good," she breathes and hopes he’s serious. But at the same time, her mind tries to show her all the other things, he could do to her. And they’re all unpleasant.

She watches the man as he raises the gun to study it with a deep frown. “This gun. Uh. It’s not … it’s not a real one, you know,” he murmurs and sighs. He puts it inside his bag with a shrug.

“Oh.” Jemma feels something like relief mixed with utter confusion. She doesn’t understand. He won’t let her just … go, will he? Not after she has seen his face.

The man seems to sense her confusion and fear. He raises both hands in what is supposed to be a calming gesture apparently, but it makes Jemma flinch anyway. “Listen. I’m not … I’m not going to hurt you. I just needed to get away as quickly as possible,” he explains.

“But … I saw your face and heard your voice,” Jemma says puzzled and immediately after she uttered those words, she curses herself. What kind of genius is she? Trying to tell her kidnapper why it’s unreasonable to let her go ...

“Well,” he shrugs, and his lips twitch up into a bitter grin. “I’m kind of a horrible criminal anyway, right? I robbed the one single person beside my mother who may have liked me for some weird reason …”

“You robbed someone you _know_?” Jemma asks in disbelief. Okay. That really _is_ stupid.  

“Yeah. It was kind of a … a rash action. I was in that petrol station to buy some painkillers for my mother, only to notice I hadn’t enough money with me – again – and I … I just put out the fake gun I had with me for a while, just in case someone of the past shows up, and told the man who owns the station, who often talks to me and offers me a cup of tea whenever I’m there, to give me all the cash he has inside his till.” He sighs and shakes his head.

All thoughts about grabbing something to hit him with and maybe get a chance to escape, disappear from Jemma’s mind, as she realizes that this man isn’t just a … a criminal. There’s deep shame and desperation in his voice. She can almost physically feel it. He's not certain about this. Not the least.

“And ... Why exactly did you do it?” She asks carefully, because she senses there's so much more behind this than desperation about being not able to pay painkillers.

The man throws her a bitter glance and snorts. “Does that really matter to you?”

“Well. You kidnapped me and made me drive you into the middle of nowhere, just to tell me that your gun is fake and you don’t want to hurt me, so honestly – yes, it matters to me,” she says dryly.

He swallows and avoids her gaze. “Sorry,” he says quietly. “I’m sorry I scared you.”

Jemma feels a hint of anger. It replaces her anxiety almost completely. She’s certain now he won’t do anything to her and starts to realize she missed an entire course – which is very relevant for a very important exam! – and feels the need to make him feel even more sorry for what he did.

“It’s good you’re sorry,” she tells the nervous pseudo-kidnapper, crossing her arms over her chest. “But I’m angry. Because of you I missed my favourite course and I thought I’m going to _die_. You gave me the scare of my life. I honestly don’t know what this is all about, but I'm here now and I want to know. So, you better start to explain.”  
She looks at him expectantly.

He sighs in resignation.  

For a short while, he seems to search for words, while tapping a finger against the car window restlessly.

“It’s my mum okay,” he finally says. “She’s … she’s sick. Very sick. And we have no money at all since my drunk asshole of a father left us nothing behind but debts. We’re living in a ramshackle flat with no electricity or warm water right now. We’re bloody poor. I dropped out of college because she needs me and has nobody else and I can't afford anything anyway. No one has ever tried to help us. Not even her bloody snobbish sister in Ireland.”

His eyes narrow in barely suppressed anger.

“I tried to get a job. Not only once. But … well, they always found something about me or my background, that made them send me back home. I’m quite talented with my hands though. I wanted to study engineering.”

He scoffs, like it's a stupid impossible idle wish.

“To pay the bills, I started to use that talent. I repaired things for people in my hometown. Anything. But it’s never been enough. So, I started to do some … not so legal things too. Did some car modding for example. Well. And now we’re here, after I robbed a bloody petrol station like a complete idiot,” he says dryly and shakes his head.

“I was desperate,” he adds quietly. “I wasn’t in my right mind. I … Oh bloody hell. I’m just a stupid worthless idiot, like _he_ always used to say!” He bangs a fist against his forehead and scowls.

Jemma swallows. She feels a hint of pity and sadness. Sounds like he has a rough life. But still … does that justify stealing money?

He looks at her as if he’s reading her thoughts. “You think I’m a bad guy, don’t you?”

“Well … What do _you_ think?” She asks him back resolutely.

The question seems to startle him. He gulps and looks down on the bag in his lap. A bag filled with much needed money. His brows furrow.

Jemma waits. Outside, it starts raining softly. Gone are the sun and the blue sky, quickly hidden behind heavy grey clouds.

Finally, the kidnapper sighs and looks at her pleadingly. “Could you … start the car and get us back to town?”

“Really?” Jemma asks surprised.

“Yes. I’m … I can’t do this. I’m not that man.” He shakes his head. “I always wanted to be different than my father and now … now I’m one step closer to end up exactly like him. I have to turn around before it’s too late. My mother would be so ashamed if she knew about this ...” Now he sounds like he’s talking more to himself than to her. His eyes have a distant look, as if he’s remembering something far in the past …

Jemma clears her throat to gain his attention again. “What exactly are you going to do?” She asks.

“I’m going to give the money back. And if Mr. Mackenzie already called the police, I’m going to let them arrest me.” His shoulders slump and he drops his head. He looks utterly defeated. “It’s pointless anyway. This life,” he murmurs.

Jemma bites her lip. He sounds so hopeless, it’s hurting her deep inside. She lays a hand on his shoulder carefully. „It’s not pointless. It may be rough right now, but you can still change it. It’s not too late. Look, you’re already doing the right thing by regretting what you did. I believe you’re a good man inside. I believe you can make right choices and be someone who you can be comfortable with. Even if I don’t know you and, uh, our first meeting the worst and scariest first meeting I've ever had to be honest, I’m sure you’re not going to be like your father.”

He looks at her hand with a strange expression on his face. “Do you really think so?” He asks quietly.

“Yes. Uh. By the way, I’m Jemma. Jemma Simmons,“ she says with a crooked smile and takes her hand from his shoulder to offer it to him.

His lips twitch barely noticeable. A faint glimmer of warmth enters his eyes, when he takes her hand to shake it. “Leo Fitz. But I prefer to just be called Fitz.”

“Hi Fitz,” she says seriously.

“Hi Jemma. Wish we would have met under different circumstances,” he sighs.

“We still have some time to learn more about each other on the drive back,” Jemma says, starting the car again. "You can try to make up for the thing with the gun ..."

 

*

 

They talk a lot.

Fitz seems like he needed it. The words burst out of him, almost all at once. He talks about his childhood which was determined by a lot of relocations, because his father always managed to gain the anger of their neighbours. Police visits were nothing unusual and one time they even considered removing Fitz from his family. 

His father didn’t only drink. He also gambled and gained even more debts, from some very dangerous people. One day, he just disappeared, but the dangerous people didn’t. Sometimes, they visited Fitz and his mother and therefore, they had to move even more times. They never had a lot of money and life was a never-ending battle. He talks about losing hope.

He falls silent, when they get on the main road again and Jemma starts talking instead. She doesn’t talk about her own childhood, but she tells him about her studies and plans.

“Wow. You’re smart,” Fitz says at one point, and Jemma feels her face getting warm. She’s sure there’s a flush on it now.

“Well,” she says. “A bit, I guess.”

Fitz snorts. “Ah I see, you’re one of those people who try to be too humble. Well, don’t be. If you’re good in something, show it to the world and be proud of it. Why not.”

Jemma eyes him and feels a surprising warmth stirring in her at his words. Altough they were uttered harshly, she thinks he means them in a kind and honest way. “Thanks,” she says. “You should be proud of your talents too.”

Fitz says nothing to that, just turns his head, to lean his face against the cool window pane.

Jemma asks herself if he's scared. Probably yes. She would definitely be scared about the thought of going to prison. And she feels quite sad at the image of him in a prison cell, where he definitely won't get the chance to still live his dreams.

She really hopes it's going to turn out differently.

 

*

 

When they stop in front of the petrol station Fitz has robbed, there’s no police waiting for them. But the man whose money Fitz stole, is sitting on the stairs outside, his hands on his knees. He looks up when the car approaches and his lips twitch.

Fitz gets out of the car hesitantly, his posture slumped. He makes a few steps and stops, seemingly not knowing what to say or do.

The man stands up and looks at him with raised eyebrows. “Care to tell me what this was about?"

“You didn’t call the police, Mr. Mackenzie,” Fitz asks surprised. “Why?”

The petrol station owner just smiles. “Well. Let’s say I had a certain feeling … Ah,” he looks at the bag Fitz is holding in his hand loosely. “The money. Well. Why don’t you two come inside and we’ll have a cup of tea? I’m on a break anyway.”

 

*

 

They drink the tea mostly in silence, but eventually, when the steam stopped raising from their mugs, Mr. Mackenzie, who told them to just call him Mack, clears his throat and looks at Fitz expectantly. “Are you going to tell me the story behind this now, Turbo?”

Fitz swallows and looks into his mug. “I don’t understand,” he murmurs. “Why don’t you just call the police? I robbed you, threatened you … you shouldn’t bother talking to me.”

“Well. You didn’t seem very sure about what you were doing. That fake gun was trembling in your hand so strong that I thought you’re going to drop it. And I saw the fear in your eyes. I’m sorry, but that was hardly a convincing robbery.”

“It wasn’t a convincing kidnapping either,” Jemma chimes in.

Fitz throws her a desperate look and shakes his head. “Again: I’m sorry …”

He breathes in deeply and starts to talk. He tells the same story he told Jemma.

When he’s done, he wipes his sweaty face nervously, and looks at Mack, raising his chin in false braveness. “Now you can call the police. I’m ready to pay the prize for this.”

Mack raises an eyebrow. “And your mother? What is she going to do when her son isn’t coming home?”

Fitz swallows and looks down at his feet.

Mack moves to lay a hand on Fitz’s shoulder. “If you had told me about this situation of yours earlier, we would have found a way to figure it out, Fitz. You’re a good guy. I can tell because I met enough bad ones in my life. Guys who were too far gone and traded their dreams for solutions they thought to be easy but in fact were leading them into a spiral of violence and hate.  
Listen. I'm alone here and I really could need a helping hand. Especially such a talented hand like yours. Why don’t you work for me, help me with the car repair service, and consider that as the prize you’re paying?”

Fitz looks up with wide eyes. “Are you serious? You’re offering me a _job_?” He asks stunned.

“Yes. With the money you can pay the medicine for your mother. And you can start going back to college. You need to find back to the right path, pal. And you have to find it quickly, because there might be no going back next time.”

“I’m … thank you,” Fitz breathes. “Thanks for giving me a chance.”

 

Later, when the sun is about to set down, Jemma and Fitz stand in front of her car and look at each other with a hesitant smile on their faces.

“So … I’m guessing you never want to see me again,” Fitz says, burying his hands in the pockets of his jacket.

Jemma tilts her head. “Well … actually, I thought you could need someone getting you back into the good old college system, once you're ready.”

She hands him a note with her mobile number on it.

Fitz takes it and stares at her puzzled. “But … I kidnapped you,” he says.

“Well. I’m giving you a second chance. Just like Mack, I think you deserve it. But next time … rather buy me a coffee,” Jemma says, already entering her car. “Goodbye Fitz. Make good use of your second chances.”

Fitz looks after her as she drives away, and she eyes him through the car mirrors as long as she's able to.

 

It might have been an unconventional, scary and absurd first meeting, but well, Jemma has never been a sucker for conventional stories anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not a native speaker and always grateful for being corrected! I'm constantly trying to improve my English, so please don't hesitate to tell me about mistakes. <3
> 
> Visit me on tumblr: [ready-to-kick-some-ass](https://ready-to-kick-some-ass.tumblr.com/) :)


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